


Live just to grow old

by risinggreatness



Series: Circle 'round the sun [108]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-16 00:22:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3467498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risinggreatness/pseuds/risinggreatness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raising families in peace is all they ever wanted (not EU compliant)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Live just to grow old

The senate claims another full day of Leia; Han thinks it’s as good as any reason to keep close in the docking bay, working on tuneups. ( _As little as he likes to think about it, there’s only so much time before Katan does something again._ )

She comes to the Falcon on her short downtime: to see Pres, to see him and Chewie, to do the thing they used to not so long ago ( _flirting and working have always been Han’s favorite_ ).

Everything’s been abandoned though, in favor of watching Pres pull himself up from a hanging appendage of the ship. ( _Chewie’s the first to notice, and more importantly, the first to see he’s not going to hurt himself._ )

“Watcha doing there, kid?”

Pres exhales in amusement.

Chewie asks if Han thinks he’ll start walking. Han suddenly realizes how little he still knows about kids. Babies, really.

“Uh, I think he’s the right age? Leia, get in here!”

“What?” she asks, sounding vaguely annoyed to be pulled away from her task, but her face changes to rapt excitement quickly.

Pres wobbles some, puts a foot forward, and falls. They all inhale quickly, but Pres isn’t shaken.

“Should I help him back up?” Leia asks.

“Nah. Let him figure it out himself.”

Slowly, very slowly, Pres is upright again. Another shaky step; another tumble.

“Okay, really –”

“No, he’s got this.” Han isn’t sure why he’s so confident, but Pres is as determined as Han feels. ( _He should be more anxious, like Leia or Chewie. Maybe it makes him the irresponsible one, but Han wants Pres to figure some things on his own._ )

Two real steps forward, and he goes forward, this time catching on Han’s arm, still standing.

They’re all cheering and Pres clearly responds to the attention and praise.

Han scoops him up, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Just remember who knew you were going to do it.”

Leia rolls her eyes, but still beams.

\----------

It is the night before they must leave Coruscant and leave Pres behind, so Leia sits at his side while he sleeps.

It’s irrational and impractical, two things Leia hates letting herself be. Although she does not need to leave battle-ready, she needs all the focus and alertness she can muster.

3PO reminding her in the doorway she needs to sleep is expected. She waves him off, easily enough. Han doesn’t come and it bothers her. Either he should be the responsible one or he should be just as ridiculous with her.

She plays with Pres’s hair ( _it sticks up the same way Han’s does_ ); he doesn’t wake, simply stirs in his sleep.

“My brave little boy, you’re not nearly as scared as your mom and dad right now.”

Not for the first time, Leia appreciates what Padmé Amidala had to do twice over and to babies even smaller. She understands why her parents kept her close to the point of comfortable smothering.

“We’re coming back. Hold me to that promise, Pres.”

Pres huffs quietly.

Han is still up when she finally tears herself away, waiting in their bed. She curls into his arms, nowhere near ready for sleep.

She doesn’t know if he eventually falls asleep.

\----------

Warned in advance that twins are smaller than their single counterparts, Leia still raises concerns about Sam’s size when they are discharged.

“It is not uncommon for the pair to be imbalanced,” the droid notes. If it could shrug, Leia assumes it would.

“You just want a fleet of Solo-sized kids?” Han smirks.

She frowns.

Despite her seemingly fragile size, it was instantly clear which of the girls kept her up at night. Fighting against tight quarters and a larger sister, now Sam flails to test the infinite size of the universe.

It would be cute if it didn’t end one day with Pres kicked in the face. He runs to her screaming; she gives him to Han and takes Sam for a walk.

Bouncing Sam gently, “Come on baby, you can’t pick on your brother, just because there’s two of you and only one of him.”

Sam looks confused.

Leia sighs then whispers a confession, “It’s alright; I want to do it to my brother too sometimes. We have to make up for our size somehow.”

Sam still won’t understand for some time, but squirms in happiness with the sense that Leia may have approved of her payback for Pres bothering her just a little too much.

\----------

Raising daughters isn’t much different than sons, by Han’s estimation, so far. They’re all tiny people of highly volatile emotions, prone to screaming, crying, and laughing so easily.

( _It’s all babies, but Han thinks their children burn through moods even quicker._ )

The main thing Bee does that the others do not is cling. It’s not that she gets upset without them, but she’s clearly so much happier when holding tight to his leg, Leia’s, Chewie’s, anyone’s really. ( _Never mind she can barely stand on her own._ )

Then there’s the mornings where she won’t let go.

Prying at her hands, “I have to go, Bee.”

She squeezes harder.

Not looking up from her datapad, toast in the other hand, Leia says, “Just take her with you today.”

“Take her wi – Leia, there’s going to be all sorts of low-lifes at this meeting and –”

“I have perfect confidence you can keep her under control during a dealbrokering at the senate.” Looking up and raising a coy eyebrow, “And if she’s really that difficult, I’ll be a few floors up.”

Han grumbles more to himself than Leia. He can handle it, thank you very much.

Lando cannot stifle his laugh when Han shows up with Bee in his arms.

“Is she here to do the negotiating for you?”

Very sarcastically, “Har har.”

Truth be told, he likes how it throws the men and women he used to rub shoulders with off. Bee is perfectly content to run her fingers over the table, perched from his lap.

Han smirks at the long fingerprint streaks on the glass.

\----------

One would think catching a rambunctious, slightly-over one year-old would be easy, but apparently not.

Running through their private rooms in the new palace, Sam is having way too much fun yelling, releasing pent-up energy from the flight, from the time in the snow, from the struggle of getting dressed for the dinner.

“I give up! You win!” Han yells. Sam disappears round a corner, Han slumps into the sofa next to Ahsoka, who has dressed and well-behaved ( _for now_ ) Bee and Pres flanking her.

“I am so glad you weren’t one of my teachers,” she notes.

Han shrugs, “The more they wear themselves out, the easier it is for me. I don’t know why more of you Jedi try that out.”

“What exactly would they be learning?” she asks dryly.

“To conserve their strength. These two –” he points at Bee and Pres, “may have figured it out, but Sam’s in for a rude awakening.”

( _Actually, he’d prefer it if Sam was completely wiped out for the dinner._ )

The holo lights up: Leia already down in the main chambers.

“Are you all ready to come down?”

Ahsoka beats Han to answering, “Someone isn’t cooperating.”

“Sam,” Leia groans. It is Han’s cue to get off his ass and make their most difficult child do what she is told for once.

He finds her with one of her toys hiding away in the closet.

“Your mom would be really happy if you came down,” he tries coaxing.

“No!” Sam pouts, reverting to her favorite word.

A little more cajoling, and half a lie, “I would be really happy if you came down.”

Sam squints suspiciously then crawls out from under the racks of Leia’s clothing.

She still fights getting dressed, but comes cooperatively, until they actually make it to the hall, packed with Alderaanians and representatives from all over the galaxy. Sam shrinks back, hiding behind him.

He kind of gets her hesitance.

Crouching down and whispering, “You’re gonna sit next to me. Make sure I behave myself. Think you can do that?”

Sam gives a tiny nod. Han lets her lead them to their seats.

\----------

After the whirlwind activity of New Alderaanian commemorations and openings, Leia is ready to put her feet up and not work for a couple days.

Mara, moving ever closer to her due date, joins her.

Leia itches to ask what names they’re considering, but if neither Luke nor Mara have volunteered them, Leia will not push.

“I am not jealous of you at all,” Mara groans. Truthfully, Leia couldn’t imagine having to do all this work while pregnant. ( _She needs to slow down sometimes too._ )

She is about to respond when a small voice comes from across the room.

“Mom?”

“Can’t sleep, sweetie?” she asks Bee. Bee nods and pads over, squeezing herself between Leia and Mara.

Sam must have conked out immediately, but given her behavior during the day, it’s hardly surprising.

“Hi, Aunt Mara,” Bee peers up at her, then points, “That’s the baby?”

“Not much gets past you, does it?” Mara’s voice laughing, but she’s completely serious.

Leia fiddles with the last of Bee’s holding braids then kisses the top of her head.

“My brilliant daughter.”

Bee flushes under the praise, but Leia loves giving it.

Her babies are her greatest pride and they will always know it. Her adoptive parents assured her of the same, and if a little late, her birth parents did as well.

( _How could she not keep the thread going?_ )

\----------

All her limbs are heavy and her sides are sore. Mara wakes to the usual empty space beside her, though today should not feel the same as every other.

She ran away, she gave birth, she came back.

Mara kicks off the blanket, and rises, wincing at the pain.

Shmi ( _it fits her perfectly; they never spoke of it, but perhaps they always thought of it_ ) sleeps soundly, as if her world and surroundings did not changed nearly two days ago.

That’s odd. She couldn’t have possibly slept through the whole night. There must be something wrong.

Mara lifts Shmi out of her cradle gently, still amazed at how someone so tiny could have made her so weighty and slow.

Shmi’s eyes remain closed, breathing unchanged.

Mara squints against so much sunlight in the living room, unaware how late in the day it already was.

Luke is there. Doing pushups.

“Disgusting.”

“I’m sorry?” he pauses.

“You’re someone’s father now; you don’t have time for this sort of thing.”

She slowly sinks onto the couch, putting her feet up, and laying Shmi on her chest. ( _It is only natural still._ )

“Remember that when you’re telling me I’ve gotten lazy from staying at the Temple.”

Mara laughs, duly noted.

He gets up and crosses to sit with her – them.

“I can’t believe she didn’t wake us up,” Mara murmurs as they both watch Shmi intently.

“Didn’t wake _us_ up? She had _me_ up _three_ times!”

Mara gapes. She has always been a light sleeper; life necessitated it. How could she have missed her daughter crying when she was needed?

“Why didn’t you wake me?!”

She is careful not to raise her voice, but Luke really can be dense at times. Luke is not fazed by her indignation. It makes her annoyance worse.

“You needed the sleep,” he says simply.

Another day, Mara might have argued that he needs more sleep than she ever does, but it’s true. Everything caught up with her and she was exhausted.

Finally aware she is not in the warmth and dark of the bedroom anymore, Shmi begins to fuss.

Mara hushes her, readying for whatever her baby needs, “I’ve got this. You need to shower, that’s probably what’s set her off.”

Luke obliges, kissing them both before he goes.

It takes no time at all for Shmi to calm, fist clenching as it can to Mara’s front.

\----------

They have two months all together before Mara is called away on a mission.

( _She could refuse and it’s not as though what stands in place of a council orders her to go, but her skill set will get the job done._

_She says goodbye to Shmi more than Luke._ )

Luke thinks about bringing Shmi with him to the Temple, for all he has to do in the next week, then settles for quiet time at home. Everyone is perfectly capable of seeing to their needs.

“It’s ironic that I’m keeping you away from there a little longer.”

Shmi burbles, still not able to laugh.

Luke sighs, running his free hand over his hand. Shmi looks at him quizzically.

How did his uncle do it?

Theirs was not an ideal relationship ( _there should have been more forgiveness on both sides_ ), but there are more than enough happy remembrances to go on.

The problem is Luke only has his memories; what it was to be a boy forcing himself into the only mold Uncle Owen could offer him.

He can hardly count his time with his own nephew and nieces – he keeps close, but there still is a distance.

Luke thinks about asking Leia: quickest, most understanding, but knowing her, probably too busy at the moment to assure her admittedly ridiculous brother he won’t ruin his daughter’s life in seven short days.

Han would be next, but it takes almost no imagination to envision Han laughing in his face, telling him to handle three – all _walking_.

Shmi squirms, sensing Luke’s attention drifted away from her.

Picking her up, “Sorry about that. Looks like I’m figuring this out by myself for now.”

R2 chirps to call Wedge.

Mystified, “About what?”

R2 launches into a stream on overhauling older ships before they’re taken out of the Academy’s hangers for good, but Luke’s surprised he didn’t think of Wedge sooner.

Interrupting R2, “Why don’t we just talk to him in person?”

Faceless, it is still completely obvious R2 is shocked.

Picking up Shmi, “Come on, we have to look at some Y-wings.”

She must pick up his anticipation, wriggling in an almost giddy way.

Luke forgot how loud the deck could be though when he arrives; Shmi’s cries follow soon after. Regretting the impulsive choice, he begins to leave when Wedge yells him into the much quieter office.

“Mara let you bring her here?” he asks, disbelieving.

Still shushing Shmi, “Er, not exactly.”

“Damn, you better more careful. Even Iella has days where she doesn’t want Syal here, but she’s getting more lax with number two on the way.”

“Number two?” Then realizing ( _as if Wedge’s shit-eating grin wasn’t enough_ ), “Congratulations!”

There is no hand to offer in kind at the moment; Shmi finally settling down.

“Just found out it’s a girl yesterday,” Wedge beams.

Luke laughs, “And here I was going to ask you how you handle just the one.”

“Very carefully,” he answers with mock sternness. Then, “I have a couple fighters on Hangar 4 you might want to look at. It’s less noisy down there too.”

Hangar 4 might be deserted for all the stillness around the ships that occupy it.

Luke spots what Wedge meant immediately.

Pointing, “You see this one, Shmi? You’re going to hear about the Death Star a lot – I flew against it in an X-wing like this and for a long time after. It meant more to me than anything I ever did with it at the time and then I lost it. You’re not going to be careless like your father.”

In sleep, Shmi sighs contentedly.

**Author's Note:**

> See author bio for discussion on this 'verse.


End file.
